Hermione entered the classroom, knocking softly on the door frame. Looking around, she saw that the room was empty. Her eyes looked up at the office noticing that the door was open but no light was seen. He always had a light on when he was in his office and she didn’t see him in the room at all. A flicker of disappointment entered her brown eyes as she stepped into the room. “Bill? Are you here?”
When her query produced no response from the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, she sighed. She could have sworn he told her the previous evening at dinner that he wouldn’t be going into Hogsmeade this weekend. To be quite honest, she had changed her own plans to go into town to get a few supplies for her sixth year Charms classes after hearing that the handsome redhead planned to stay at the school. I’m so pathetic.
She closed the door behind her and entered his class. A smile crossed her lips as she saw the personal touches that Bill had added since joining the Hogwarts staff this term. The room was clean and bright, books organized and not a hint of dust to be seen. He was organized, thorough, and a brilliant professor. He was also intelligent, amusing, and far too sexy for her own good. She had always found him rather attractive, mooning over him privately like some silly schoolgirl when she was younger. Unfortunately, her infatuation had come back with a vengeance when they’d begun working together.
The horrible truth was that he wasn’t interested in her. He treated her like a younger sister, going so far as to call her ‘kid’ and ‘brat’ quite often. It was a reminder that he would never see her as a desirable woman of twenty-four. It was pointless to dwell on her ridiculous crush. She was reasonably attractive, intelligent, and rather witty. She had turned down dates a few times in the past few years so she should finally put her romantic notions about her best friend’s older brother out of her mind and accept Zacharias’ offer to renew their relationship if only for the sex, which had been quite good.
She wanted more than sex, though, and it had proven obvious to both her and Zach early on that they were just too different for a real relationship. It was silly, but she wanted to be loved, desired, to have a man look at her as if he’d never seen anything so beautiful and he had to have her or he’d go insane. Foolish dreams. Hermione walked to Bill’s desk, her fingers tracing the surface as she inhaled the masculine scent of the former cursebreaker. Spice, lemon, and something undeniably Bill.
Shaking her head, she realized she was being even more pathetic than normal. He didn’t want her as anything more than a friend. She had made several horrible attempts at flirting, stammering like an idiot as she tried to be seductive and attractive, and he’d simply grinned, not noticed at all, and patted her on the head like she was some child. Falling into his chair, she buried her face in her hands. This had to stop. She could not allow her unrequited attraction to the sexy older wizard to keep making her do such stupid things.
As she was promising herself that she would not moon after him like some smitten second-year, she realized his scent was stronger. Looking to her right, she noticed his robe lying across the back of his chair. Sitting up, she reached down and brought the material to her face. Closing her eyes, she let his scent surround her. When she opened them again, a mischievous gleam was flickering in their brown depths. It was a really bad idea, she decided, even as she stood up and licked her lips. He’d gone into Hogsmeade, though, so she had the room to herself. He’d never know.
Oh God, I can’t believe I’m even contemplating this! Running a hand through her hair, she debated the possibility of actually doing something so perverse and naughty. She was not daring or reckless at all except when it came to matters in her youth that involved saving Harry. Why, then, was she seriously considering following through with the wicked idea she’d just had?
She performed a quick locking charm on the door, knowing that nothing would be more humiliating than being caught do that by a student or another professor. Her hands were steady as she unfastened her robe, folding it neatly and putting it in the chair she had vacated. Her fingers deftly unbuttoned her plain white blouse, shrugging the material from her shoulders before it was neatly placed on her robe. Her skirt soon followed. Hermione could feel the heat in her body, a mixture of embarrassment at being so weak she was actually doing this and desire as the heady scent of Bill made her nipples tight and her knickers wet.
There was a slight shaking in her hands as she unfastened her brassiere, sliding it down her arms and tossing it on the stack of clothes. Now wearing only her knickers and knee socks, she picked up Bill’s robe, rubbing the material over her face before putting it on. It was far too big for her, of course. Bill was tall and slender, nearly a head taller than her, and the worn material of his robe fell to her feet and past her hands.
Clearing a space on his desk, she sat down, kicking off her shoes but leaving her socks on. The dungeon was cold, after all, despite the warm appearance of his classroom. Bravely continuing her debauched plans, she covered her hand with the soft material and moved it over her breasts. Her nipples were hard, full breasts aching, but her hands were not as big as his and her palms not as rough. Leaning back against his desk, she flinched when she heard some books fall to the ground. She’d straighten up before leaving.
Lying on his desk, she lost herself to the sensations of his robe moving along her body and the scent of him in the air. Her hands squeezed her breasts in the way she dreamed he would, her legs spreading as she moved one hand lower. Sliding her fingers beneath the elastic band, she moaned softly when they touched her wet lips. Her head fell back over the side of his desk, her long hair nearly brushing the floor as she began to stroke herself, her other hand continuing to caress her breasts.
“Oh God,” she whimpered as two fingers slowly penetrated her wet cunt, her palm pressing against her mound as she fucked herself on Bill’s desk. She didn’t last long. The smell of Bill, the knowledge she was doing something so wanton, the fear he may return soon and she’d have to explain why she was locked in his classroom alone, it all led to her low cry of release. “Bill,” she moaned as she came, her juices soaking through her knickers, a damp spot appearing on his robe.
Taking several deep breaths, she closed her eyes and felt her cheeks turn red. What was she doing? Sitting up and running a hand over her face, her eyes flashed open when she heard a soft groan. Hermione stared in shock at the redhead leaning against the office door. No, it was dark when she’d looked. He’d not answered her call. Suddenly mortified, she tried to stammer an explanation, knowing it was useless. She was basically naked, wearing his robe, and wanking on the top of his desk while moaning his name like some trampy slag.
“Hermione,” he cleared his throat, hazel eyes looking at her with confusion and awareness.
“I’m so sorry, Bill. Can we please forget this happened? I thought you were gone and you didn’t answer me when I called out to you and, bloody hell, this is embarrassing.”
“Don’t,” he suddenly said when she was pulling his robe tight around her. Looking up at him finally, she noticed several things. His hair was free from the leather strap usually confining it, framing his face in a sexily disheveled way that had her hands itching to touch. His face was flushed, unshaven, sweaty, and his lower lip was red as if he’d been biting it hard. Her breath caught when she saw that his trousers were unfastened, his hand holding his hard cock.
“Bill, what?” Her voice trailed off as she nibbled her bottom lip. Had she done that to him? Was he hard after watching her? What did this mean?
“I think you should leave, kid,” he growled quietly, his eyes intense and full of things she had never before seen. As he looked at her, she was suddenly reminded of predatory animals she had seen on nature programs she used to watch as a child.
“I’m not a kid,” she replied softly, her mind rapidly putting the pieces together and coming up with only one explanation. He wanted her. She had no idea if he loved her, found her a possible candidate for a relationship, or wanted more than just a shag, but she knew with sudden clarity that he was fighting with himself right now because he wanted to slide that hard cock inside her until they were both spent. Raising her head, she bravely stood up and let the robe fall down her shoulders to gather at her elbows.
“No, you’re not,” he agreed hoarsely, his eyes hungrily moving over her body. A muscle in his cheek twitched, his hand was clenched in a fist, and she could see him breathing deeply.
Hermione looked into his eyes and made a decision. If he turned her away, it wouldn’t be any more humiliating than being caught wanking on his desk with his robe of all things. She gathered her courage, her hair falling across her shoulder and brushing against her breasts as she began to lower her knickers. As her chestnut curls came into view, he moved faster than she’d ever seen anyone move. His hands were suddenly on hers, ripping the material from her and then he was pressing her against the desk and thrusting into her.
She cried out as he entered her with one forceful move, her body stretching around him, so wet he slid in easily. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked her, his lips against her neck, teeth biting her shoulders, his hands so delightfully rough as he squeezed and kneaded her breasts. Her fingers tangled in his long red, pulling the silky locks, her other hand gripping his shirt as he fucked her. She heard more things falling to the floor but didn’t care, her lips meeting his for a sloppy but desperate kiss.
His hands were gripping her hips tightly, pulling her against him with each thrust, his jaw rubbing against her sensitive skin until it was pink. She licked his neck as they fucked, nibbling on his freckled shoulder, his shirt pushed down around his arms so she could reach his bare skin. There was nothing soft or gentle about their actions. She’d been wanting this so long, she was arching up to meet him, moaning and whimpering as he drove her hard against the desk with each thrust.
Too soon, he was entering her deeply, his seed spilling into her. His hand moved between them, fingers finding her clit and twisting until she was crying out. Holding on to him, she rode out her orgasm, softly whispering, “I love you.”
It happened as suddenly as their shag. He tensed immediately, his hips stopping the shallow thrusts he’d been making inside her. Flinching at his reaction, she cursed herself for being so bloody stupid. She’d not intended to say that but he’d felt so good inside her and she hadn’t been able to stop the words. When he pulled out of her, she coolly fastened his robe around her, not wanting to take the time to dress, needing to get away before she did anything else stupid.
“Hermione, I’m, it’s just,” he was using the voice usually reserved for letting a student down easy regarding their projects or grades.
She’d heard it many times, refusing to look at him as she stood and tried to calmly gather her clothing. She could feel their combined release sticky and wet against her thighs. Her body was sore from the force of his thrusts, her breasts tender, and her hips definitely bore the imprint of his fingers. She’d be bruised, she realized dumbly. He’d wanted her enough to fuck her roughly and take everything she gave but that’s all he’d wanted. Keeping her voice brisk and strong, she said as casually as possible, “Forget it, Bill. It was just a shag. We’re mature adults so I assume we can forget it ever happened.”
“I didn’t intend for it to happen,” he explained quietly. “I’m sorry I took advantage of you. You were just so bloody sexy and I was aroused and fuck. Hermione, look at me, damn it. You’re one of my best friends and I have to know this hasn’t changed anything.”
Sorry? He was sorry? Any confidence or pride she felt suddenly faded with those words. He was horny and he happened to find her wanking on his desk. It wasn’t about her. It had never been about her. God, she felt so foolish. Hot tears filled her eyes, angry tears. Hermione just didn’t know if she was angry at him for being such a, such a man or if she was angry at herself for being so weak and reckless. She couldn’t even look at him and tell him what he wanted to hear because it would have been a lie. This had changed everything.
“Hermione, please.”
“I need to go,” she said softly, holding her clothes to her chest as she walked to the door. She wouldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at him. It hurt so much. She’d finally gotten what she’d dreamed about for years and it had felt so good but now her entire world was falling apart. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Each step she took, she cursed herself for letting things get so out of hand. When she reached the door, she released the locking charm, her hand gripping the handle.
“You can’t leave like this,” Bill said desperately, taking a step towards her. “We’re friends, Hermione. We can talk about this.”
“No, we can’t,” she said sadly. Blinking away tears, she took a deep breath to calm her emotions. Looking over her shoulder, their eyes met briefly. “Nothing will ever be the same, Bill.”
Before he could say anything, she opened the door and left, walking hurriedly to her room so she could take a shower and cry. Bill stared at the open door, his fingers running through his hair as he sat down. “Bloody fucking hell,” he muttered before folding his arms on his desk and lying his face against them.
Sighing deeply, he wondered how this could be fixed, what he could do to get things back as they had been before. He’d been attracted to her for years but it had never been anything more than a passing fancy, an acknowledgement of beauty and intellect. Until today. Seeing her naked on his desk wearing on his robe and a skimpy pair of knickers, he’d been unable to ignore the desire that had been building for months. She’d come undone in his arms, and he’d been so rough. Did he really want things back like they had been or did he want something more now that he’d had a taste of her passion? He’d just lost something incredibly important, something he hadn’t even realized he wanted until it was gone. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, the scent of Hermione surrounding him. When he opened them again, a stubborn gleam flashed in their hazel depths. He was going to get her back, damn it.
The End